Page 80 of Petite Fleur

I can’t exactly say that I’m miserable; I’m hungry, bored, and annoyed, but he leaves me alone for the most part, and the bed is pretty comfortable.

I almost hate that I don’t hate this more.

I hate that he’s screwing me over with college, I hate that my roommates will forever think they won and I ran like a scared little girl, and I hate that my arm is still throbbing from where he cut my birth control out of me, but I don’t hate where I am.

I am, however, scared to eat.

I don’t know what his diet is like and what could or couldn’t be contaminated.

I could scrub the house clean and be able to cook and eat a meal, but how long before it would be contaminated again?

I’m too scared of being sick; I’d rather be hungry than have to experience that again.

I’ve only ever been given gluten a handful of times since my diagnosis, and each time has landed me in the hospital.

Each time has led to uncontrollable bloating, vomiting, or the other end of things taking over.

Maybe if I starve myself long enough, he’ll let me go.

You know, like the compassionate release that prisoners get.

That feels like a pipe dream. I don’t think he’s ever going to let me go until he gets whatever he took me for.

Given that he keeps forcing himself on me, I have a pretty good guess as to why I’m here.

I gotta say, though, him tackling me in the yard the other day shouldn’t have been as erotic as it was.

It shouldn’t have turned me on that I couldn’t kick, claw, or scream my way out of it, but it did.

Even being as gentle as he was, it still hurt.

Are they all this big?

Shelby’s little toy has nothing on this guy! It felt like I was being split in two when he forced himself into me, and I know he saw the tears, but it didn’t stop him.

I didn’t stop him.

I don’t know if telling him no would change anything, so I’m telling myself that’s why I didn’t say something to stop him, but it’s almost embarrassing how little fight I put into stopping him.

Today isn’t any different!

I didn’t stop him, I didn’t protest or try to run, I let him have sex with me.

It actually felt really good at first; I felt like I could cum, but then the reminder of my bar being cut out and the fear of him cumming in me ruined my orgasm.

So, now I’m scared that I’m pregnant; I’m on edge because I haven’t gotten to cum in days, and I’m hungry.

Maybe tomorrow when he leaves for work, I can try to touch myself and see what happens, but right now, he’s still inside of me.

He’s cuddling me and keeping his cum in me.

Is this normal?

Is this what people in relationships do?

Is that what he thinks this is between us?

I don’t even know if I want the answer to any of these questions, but they’re all swirling around in my mind and clouding this entire situation even further.

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